


The Dinner Date

by Animal_Arithmetic



Series: Upon These Golden Sands I Built My House of Dreams [5]
Category: Supernatural, The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dinner Date, F/M, M/M, Miscommunication, Nosy coworkers, POV Outsider, Relationship Reveal, Secrets, Wife! Jaskier, curious coworkers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22459006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animal_Arithmetic/pseuds/Animal_Arithmetic
Summary: Geralt had been working with Jerry for a year and a half now. He was a quiet, hard worker, prone to keeping everything about himself a secret until Jerry overheared him conversing with his wife one day.So, Jerry decided to invite him and his family over for dinner.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Upon These Golden Sands I Built My House of Dreams [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614880
Comments: 28
Kudos: 1203





	The Dinner Date

Geralt Rivia was an odd man. He was a hard worker, yes, but just a little too quiet. He never spoke with any of the other men, not once in the entire year and a half that Jerry had worked with him since Geralt had joined them. If he did happen to have any questions or conversation thrown his way, Geralt always answered with a hum or grunt, but never any words. At first they thought he was mute, but a brief exchange his first week—politely declining drinks because he had to get home to his young boys—nipped that thought.

But he worked hard—harder than anyone else at the lumber yard. It took two men to lift what he could by himself and he rarely paused for breaks, only stopping for water or lunch and barely lifting a sleeve to wipe the sparse sweat on his brow. He never dallied—he always strode with purpose towards his next task, which often led to men scrambling out of his way.

He was young, too. Late twenties, early thirties, perhaps, but his long hair was white. (By the end of the day it wasn’t quite white anymore, but no one was quite clean after a long, hard day.) He always nodded at Stella, the secretary, as he clocked in and out for the day, but never gave her a second look like the other men who drooled at her curves.

Geralt Rivia was an odd man, but a good one. He gave off vibes like he had seen war—had _fought_ in war—as his silent but sturdy stature commanded respect.

Some of the men were uneasy by him, but Jerry had no complaints. The man worked hard and got shit done. So what if he didn’t make friendly? He obviously wasn’t there to make friends. If that’s what he wanted in life, Jerry wasn’t anyone important enough to tell him differently.

But it was a year and a half before he really _learned_ anything important about Geralt. Their boss never revealed anything either, always saying, “Well, if he don’t wantcha to know, who the fuck am I to tell ya?” around his cigar whenever one of the men started to pry.

But one day, Stella had called Geralt into the office while Jerry was filling out an order form for a new chainsaw. Geralt came in, as imposing as always, and answered the phone.

“Jaskier,” he said, voice much deeper and raspier than Jerry could have ever imagined. What kind of name was Jaskier, anyway? He pretended he wasn’t listening in as Geralt continued, “What’s wrong?”

Hysterical crying burst through, loud enough for Jerry to hear on the other end. Startled, he looked up to see Geralt stiffen, poised as if to run out the door as soon as he was given a signal. “Calm down, love.” His voice was slightly accented, too. British, perhaps? “Tell me what’s wrong.”

More hysterical crying, but Geralt’s concern faded to fond exasperation. “Let me see if I understand,” he said in his low, rumbling voice, sounding fondly amused. “You’re... upset because Dean gave you a Mother’s Day card?” Less hysterical crying, but Jerry could still hear some sort of yelling on the other end. “Hmm. Not upset, then. Why are you crying?”

More yelling, and Geralt rolled his eyes, smirking when he caught Jerry openly watching him.

“I see,” Geralt murmured, tapping on the desk. “That’s quite an improvement. Perhaps we’ll celebrate when I get home.” A brief silence as he listened to Jaskier, then he added, “Be a good wife and pay attention to the kids.” There was a shout from the other end, but Geralt hung up before Jaskier, apparently, could fully argue. There was a fond smile as Geralt huffed and shook his head.

“What’d the wife want?” Stella asked teasingly, going back to balancing the books.

“It wasn’t quite the emergency Jaskier made it seem,” Geralt replied with a small laugh. He turned just slightly to include Jerry in the conversation. “Dean’s been a very quiet, somber boy due to trauma from a few years ago,” he said quietly, tapping his fingers on the desk. “School has been hard for him, but I suppose something happened today and he broke out of his melancholy.” He sounded proud, almost. Or maybe it was mostly in the soft smile as he explained.

Honestly, Jerry was amazed that Geralt was sharing this information with him. It was more than the man had ever said to anyone in the crew in almost two years, and Jerry was privy to it all. He felt... honored, almost, that Geralt had decided to share such a private side of himself with him.

“Congratulations,” he replied, unsure how else he could respond. “How old is he?”

“Six. His brother just turned two. They were in the same... _situation_ , but of course Sammy doesn’t remember anything about it.” He turned to Stella, then, and gave her an amused smirk. “Please keep informing me if Jaskier calls. One day it might actually be an emergency.”

Stella laughed. “Sure thing, sweetheart. Maybe Mark will let you leave early today.”

Geralt hummed, but didn’t otherwise respond as he left the little building.

Huh. Interesting.

* * *

“He’s got a wife and two kids,” Jerry shared the next day at lunch. He had debated whether to share the information with the rest of the crew, but... Sure, Geralt had actually shared the information to him in the first place, but he knew the men were just as curious.

The men stopped and stared at him, blinking in confusion and exchanging looks with each other.

“Geralt?” asked Dave, the first to rouse from his stupor.

“Mhmm. Was in the office when his wife called. Told me himself it was his wife and kids. He even _smiled_.”

“ _Bullshit_.”

The others shushed Jason’s outburst. Jerry wasn’t known for kidding around or lying.

“We need a get together,” Daniel said after a moment. “Invite him and his family. A barbeque or something.”

Perhaps Jerry shouldn’t have said anything. Once these men got a little taste of information, they hungered for more. It wouldn’t be fair to toss a private man such as Geralt in with their rowdy families.

“I’ll ask,” Jerry finally conceded. “But no promises.”

It wasn’t until after the weekend that Jerry could corner Geralt after work. They were both clocking out, sweaty and dirty from a long day. “Hey,” Jerry called out as Geralt left for his vehicle. Geralt slowed just enough to let Jerry catch up. “Do you wanna come over this weekend for dinner? Some of the guys and their families were going to come over for a barbeque. You can bring the wife and kids!”

Geralt’s face twitched into a funny mixture of emotions. Amusement, slight fear, mostly confusion. “I can’t,” he replied in his gruff tone. “Jaskier’s busy on the weekends. I gotta stay home with the kids.”

“That’s an odd name for a woman,” Jerry couldn’t help but say.

“It’s a nickname—Polish for buttercup,” Geralt replied with a slight laugh. He leaned against his truck, looking down at Jerry. The man was an absolute mountain of muscles. “Why are you suddenly so interested in my life?”

Jerry shrugged, glancing to the side where a few of the men had gathered. “Honestly? We’re curious. You’ve been here for a while and we don’t know much about you. Just that you work hard and are quiet and have a wife and two kids.”

Geralt’s face twitched into that same mixture of emotions. There was something about it that made Jerry think that perhaps he was wrong about something, but he wasn’t sure quite what. A quick glance down at his hand showed no ring, but that wasn’t unusual. Many of the guys didn’t wear their wedding ring, not wanting it to get damaged. But there was something uneasy about Geralt’s demeanor, something that spoke of... fear? Was he afraid of the others?

Nah. Couldn’t be.

But. Well. Then again, Geralt did as much as he could to avoid interacting with the others.

“Alright,” said Jerry. “No barbeque. What about just dinner with my family? Crowds don’t seem to be your type.”

Something loosened in Geralt’s expression, though his brow crinkled as he studied Jerry. “And you want me to bring Jaskier and the boys?”

“Of course! If you want to, of course. Tuesday night, perhaps?”

Geralt studied him for a very long moment. His gaze was intense, as if he was pulling him apart to get at whatever secrets he wanted. Jerry stared right back, hoping he didn’t look as uncomfortable as he felt. He wanted Geralt to like him, wanted to learn more, even though he tried to pretend otherwise.

After perhaps a bit too long, Geralt finally nodded. He reached into his truck and pulled out a small notebook that had seen better days. He flipped to the back, clicking the pen and handing it out. But before Jerry could take it, he pulled it back and raised an eyebrow at him. “Just you and your family?”

His amber eyes cut towards the small crowd of men not too far away—far enough to not be able to eavesdrop on their quiet conversation, but just close enough to be obvious that they were avidly watching their interaction. “Tell you what,” Jerry said, taking the notepad and pen to scribble down his address and a few directions, just in case. “I’ll tell the boys I’m planning a barbeque for the weekend and I’m giving you the option to come if you want, no pressure. They won’t know about tomorrow.”

Geralt took the notebook back, staring down at the address. Their fingerprints had dirtied the page. “Thank you, Jerry,” he said sincerely. “I’m... I—apologize, for not—”

Jerry waved a hand. “It’s no matter. We’re here to provide for our families, yeah?”

Geralt nodded once, tossing the notebook and pen to the passenger seat. It seemed like he had run out of words.

Instead of pressing further, Jerry clapped a hand to his shoulder. “See you tomorrow, Geralt. Take it easy.”

Geralt grunted in reply, but Jerry couldn’t find it in himself to be offended.

The man was just a gentle giant, tentative and hesitant about new people, it seemed. He watched as Geralt drove away, tires kicking up dust in his hurry to get home. The other men hurried up to him, demanding answers, speaking over each other to pry into their conversation.

All he told them was he had invited the Rivias to the barbeque that weekend, and nothing more.

* * *

Jerry was—jittery. His leg bounced up and down as he sat in his armchair facing the driveway, hoping Geralt would show up and that he hadn’t been spooked. Anne was just pulling the carrots out of the oven and checking the pork chops as Susan and Michael set the table. They were a little older than Geralt’s children, but only by a few years. Anne had even pulled out their old high chair for Sammy without Jerry even having to ask.

A car pulled into their driveway. Jerry jumped up, taking a deep breath to still his quickened heartbeat. It was just a coworker. No reason to get worked up about it.

He forced himself to wait until they knocked on the door before moving over to it and revealing—

... Two men?

What?

“Hi!” said the brunet, holding a toddler. He had a similar accent to Geralt. Geralt held an older kid who was hiding his face in Geralt’s white hair. The stranger was dressed... _loudly_ , full of colors that screamed for attention next to Geralt’s usual flannel. “I’m Jaskier, Geralt’s wife. I’m sure he’s just mentioned me _loads_ of times. Can’t shut up about me, I’m sure.”

“I... What?”

Geralt grimaced. “It’s... a joke that got slightly out of hand.”

But the two stood close together, nonetheless. And there was a slight tension of fear lining their faces as they awaited Jerry’s judgement.

A lot like Ray and his boyfriend, to be honest. Sure, Jerry didn’t quite understand why Ray liked men, but he was still his brother and still loved him dearly and only wanted him to be happy, even if Jerry didn’t understand his choices. It was something their parents had disowned Ray for, but Jerry kept in touch, inviting him and Thomas over often to show his support. It helped that the kids loved their uncle and Thomas both as well.

And, sure, he never suspected Geralt to be... _inclined_ that way, but.

Well.

It made a lot of sense, too.

Jerry tried his best to give them a genuine smile. Ray had told him that he feared a lot of people’s reactions of being together with Thomas so they lied and misdirected as much as possible. “So Jaskier is your... boyfriend, then?”

The two looked briefly at each other, holding a silent conversation. Jaskier was biting his lip nervously, but Geralt almost looked unmoved. Finally, Geralt hummed and turned back. “Yeah. He is. That a problem?”

Jerry widened the door, giving them his most charming grin. “Not at all.”

Anne and the kids hardly blinked when it was revealed that Jaskier wasn't _actually_ Geralt's wife, but his boyfriend. They sat around the table, making small conversation over dinner. It seemed so routine and domestic how the two each helped a child with his food, cutting the pork chops enough so they wouldn't choke. Jaskier talked a lot, enough to fill at least half the conversation, but Geralt just watched on fondly and let him speak to Anne and Jerry, even pulling Susan and Michael into the conversation. 

Dean, the poor boy, looked terribly frightened with the whole thing. He could see what Geralt had meant about him being very quiet and somber. It took a little while for him to actually look up curiously around the table, but he never spoke more than a quiet "yes, please," or "no, thank you," when asked if he wanted more food or help with it. 

After dinner, Michael pulled a wide-eyed Dean along to his room to play. Jaskier and Anne continued to chatter in the kitchen as they cleaned up and exchanged recipes. Jerry offered Geralt some whiskey and they took the toddler to the living room where Jaskier had dropped a bag of toys to keep Sam occupied. The boy took out some blocks and started setting up a tower.

"Thank you," Jerry said after a long moment of silence as they watched Sam play. When Geralt grunted for him to continue, he said, "For trusting me. I—My brother, you see, he's got a boyfriend, too."

"Hmm."

Jerry let the silence stretch between them, listening to his wife and Jaskier chatter away, dishes clinking together as they talked. Eventually, Geralt spoke up in his low, rumbling voice. "You're the first, here. Well, except for Stella, but she figured it out on her own. Mark doesn't know."

"I won't say a word."

"Hmm..."

Quiet, again, but not so awkward or tense this time. The two enjoyed the quiet, watching Sam build his tower and knock it over with a giggle again and again. 

It wasn't long before Jaskier came bounding in. "Geralt!" he called out, hopping over Sam to lean over the other man. They were close in height, but the sheer bulk on Geralt made him seem so much larger. "Anne said Jerry's brother is like us!"

"Yes, dear," Geralt replied with that fond exasperation Jerry was coming to recognize. "I know."

"We should meet them!" Jaskier replied excitedly, plopping right down on Geralt's lap, as if he belonged there. Geralt cut his gaze towards Jerry who only snickered in response. " _Please_ , Geralt? We haven't met anyone like us since we moved here. Don't you think it'd be nice? Having friends?"

Geralt looked to him, his gaze asking what his mouth apparently couldn't.

Jerry looked to Anne who was grinning at the pair. "Not on the weekends, right?" Jerry asked to Jaskier. "Geralt said you're busy?"

"Yeah, I sing for a few of the bars," Jaskier replied proudly.

The two were the oddest pair he had ever met, that was for sure. They were so opposite in seemingly everything. How had they become so close? Close enough to try raising kids together? That was a question for another time, however. "If Anne's not too tired of cooking for others, maybe sometime next week? We're having a barbeque this weekend, but..."

Jaskier frowned. "Yeah, probably not as great of an idea if I showed up to that," he said sadly. It was... not something that Jaskier should have been, Jerry thought. A sad Jaskier was just too strange. But then he perked right up and grinned. "But that's okay! Geralt isn't fond of social interactions anyway, right, honey-dearest?"

Geralt just rolled his eyes. He nodded towards the toddler on the floor who had become silent. "Your child has passed out."

"He's only mine when you find it convenient," Jaskier grumbled, moving off his lap to pick up the child. "He's _your_ kid, don't forget that."

It was quite the sight to see Geralt openly grinning.


End file.
